


One by One

by DragonCorny



Category: Claymore
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, Sad, Three different people cussed me out when I let them beta read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:30:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonCorny/pseuds/DragonCorny
Summary: Its a given that people don't live forever. Half-yoma or not. It just never crosses your mind until it happens.





	1. Sooner

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to TwinConstellations on Tumblr for being my motivation to write this

There is a sickening sound of metal sliding through flesh as Clare hacks away at the Awakened Being’s body, too enraged to even continue bothering using the Windcutter. Though long dead, the warrior continued to slash and mince the monster to bits.

“Clare.”

The former number 47 ignored the call and continued to stab her blade into the corpse of the Awakened One.

“Clare.” A hand was gently placed on her shoulder but quickly and rather roughly shoved off as the warrior used both hands to slam her blade into the body of the corpse.

“Clare!” The hand again reached out to her shoulder, this time turning the enraged warrior around to face them.

On instinct, Clare swung with her fist, only to have the hand be caught as she stared into Cynthia’s stern expression.

“Enough, Clare. Its… enough.” The stern mask slipped away into an exhausted sad visage. “… its already dead. There’s nothing else we can do.”

Clare’s eyes flashed dangerously at the sentence, rage making her body tremble. She wanted to yell at Cynthia. Ask her how dare she say such a thing. She wanted to punch her and push the other warrior’s hands away. With a metallic clang, Clare’s claymore clattered to the ground as her fingers relaxed the knuckle-white grip she had on the hilt.

“I should have done more.” Clare’s body sagged as her head dropped, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as tears pricked the back of her eyelids. “I should have done more.”

In an uncharacteristic display of friendship, Cynthia stepped forward and gently embraced the younger warrior.

“We all should have.” Cynthia whispered as tears fell from her eyes.

Raising her head, Clare looked past Cynthia’s shoulder to stare at the unmoving body of one of her best friends.

* * *

Deneve felt hollow and empty. There was no warmth, no wind, no sound. Her only point of focus was cooling body that lay in her arms.

It shouldn’t have happened. It should have been her. It should have been HER.

The sentence repeats in her head over and over.

“It isn’t your fault.” Miria’s cool voice cut through her thoughts.

Looking up, Deneve locks onto her captain’s face whose silver eyes are brimmed with tears.

“I should have been faster. I could have been faster.” She hesitates and opens her mouth, eyes filled with apology. “I’m s-“

“DON’T.” Deneve snaps out the word with such force, Miria takes a step back in surprise. Deneve herself is surprised at her own voice, but having Miria apologize for this just felt so wrong. It was not her fault. It was not right to have Miria apologize.

“Don’t.” Deneve repeats more softly this time. “It’s not your fault. She… she wouldn’t want you to apologize.”

A part of Deneve wants to scream yes. Yes, it was her fault. Miria was fast, Miria could have saved her. Another part blames herself. For not being aware enough, for not being there. Logically, she knows this is all wrong. That in the end, no one was at fault for this.

Returning her eyes back to the body in her arms, Deneve reaches forward to gently brush a stray hair off Helen’s face.

It’s not fair. Deneve thinks. Even at the very end, Helen was comforting her.

The small smile left on the frozen face of the former 22 brings tears into her eyes. Deneve had pressed her hands into the wound on Helen’s chest with all her might, pleading for the bleeding to stop. She had tried desperately to reassure her wounded comrade that she would be fine, that Cynthia would be able to heal her.

The grin Helen gave her in return had sent a dagger to her heart.

“I’m not stupid Deneve,” She had chuckled, “but thanks.” The light in Helen’s eyes had faded then. Grin slowly decreasing to a small smile as her eyelids shut while Deneve had yelled, screamed at Helen not to go.

She should have seen the Awakened One sneak up on her. She should have used her own body as a shield. She should have made sure to check on Helen in case. She should have killed the damn monster faster. She should have-

There were so many things that should have, but didn’t. In the end, it didn’t matter what should have. What _did_ happen, happened, and there was no should haves left.

The weight of grief made Deneve curl herself around the body of her longest friend.

So many should haves, none of which did.

Leaning down, she gently brushed her lips against Helen’s cold ones and pulled the body of her best friend tightly against herself, burying her face in the long hair as tears ran free down her face.

“I love you”

She should have said it sooner.


	2. Lullaby

 

The sky was blue. Very blue, she noted. Blinking a few times, she struggled a bit to remember why she was looking at the sky. She wondered if she had been asleep. That answer did not sit right with her however, and she concluded that this was not the case. There was a flicker of movement to her right but she paid it no mind.

Trying to stand, she realized that her body did not move on command. In fact, it didn’t move at all. That was weird. Trying again, she felt a finger twitch in response, but otherwise, no movement. The leaves on the surrounding trees seemed to swirl together in a sudden movement.

It was strange she suddenly realized. She couldn’t move her body, but she also couldn’t feel much aside from this dull burning in her stomach. Attempting to maneuver her head, she managed to barely peer down her body. All she could make out was a lot of red for whatever reason.

Another flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. She turned her head minutely to the right towards the source.

Miria was moving towards her, mouth moving, but she couldn’t hear anything. Was Miria whispering? It didn’t seem like it. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Miria was limping. Scanning her eyes over her Captain as the older warrior got closer, she took in the various injuries the former Number Six was sporting.

Why was Miria injured?

Miria’s lips were moving again, but like before, there was no sound. After a moment, it dawned on her that Miria wasn’t speaking to her. Following the warrior’s line of sight, she forced her eyes to the left of her body and blinked in surprise. Cynthia was kneeling beside her, mouth moving as well. The healer’s hands were over her body, but she didn’t feel anything.

She asked them what was going on. There was no response as the two did not look her way, and continued their silent conversation.

She frowned at this. Why were they ignoring her?

She tried again. Calling out to Miria in hopes of getting the Captain’s attention. Again the warrior paid her no mind, frustrating her. Why was Miria ignoring her?

Her vision was suddenly obscured as a face invaded her field of vision.

Helen.

She felt the smile creep up on her face.

Helen’s lips were moving, but like Cynthia and Miria, she couldn’t hear anything. She felt herself frown in response. Why couldn’t she hear Helen?

Helen paused. She wasn’t sure why, but then Helen’s lips were moving again, a little faster this time. “…e…”

She could hear Helen! Even if it was just a little. She smiled slightly in response.

Helen’s eyes lit up in response to the movement. A small smile breaking out as she said something else. “...ar me …ve”

She was hearing Helen’s voice more and more. That was a good sign. She asked Helen what had happened to her, but Helen only stared at her in response.

Blinking slowly, she took in Helen’s bright silver eyes. She had never really taken anytime to really look at them. Unlike her own, Helen’s eyes were much rounder but slanted at the ends. It was very attractive. She liked the way Helen’s eyes crinkled when she smiled. It was cute.

Helen was saying something again. She couldn’t make it out however and frowned in reponse, asking Helen to repeat herself.

Helen’s head tilted, eyes slowly clouding over with worry. She wondered why Helen was worried.

She took a moment to admire the smooth curve of Helen’s neck. Helen’s jaw was angled so perfectly, it outlined her face just right.

“Ca… h… Den…” Her ears perked a bit at the sound of Helen’s voice.

Helen was saying her name. She turned her eyes back to Helen’s face to signal that she had heard the former Number Twenty-Two.

“Dene…” Helen was saying her name again.

She watched as Helen’s lips moved, eyes ghosting over the slight seen to them. Her own suddenly felt very dry. By heart, she knew the word that Helen was saying just by watching her lips. She had memorized the way Helen’s mouth moved with every syllable of her name.

“Deneve.”

The sound of her name of Helen’s lips was like a song. It made her heart soar like a crescendo in a song, and sometimes made it skip like a quarter note.

“Deneve.”

Her name on Helen’s lips was her favourite sound in the world. It was soothing and warm, keeping her grounded and happy.

“Deneve!”

Helen said her name like it was a lullaby.

And she fell asleep to it.


	3. False Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She accepted her fate. She was ready to die.

She didn’t really think of it at the time. It was merely instinct, reaction, habit. She had seen the movement out of the corner of her eye and noticed the unsuspecting target. Before her brain had fully processed what was occurring, her body was already between the target and the attacker.

An attempt at a deep breath only increased the burning sensations in her lungs. _Alright. Bad idea._ Her eyes remained closed as she focused on the rest of her body. She wiggled her fingers on her right hand prompting an appropriate response, and did the same for the left. Feeling the grass move between her fingers confirmed that her hands were still very much intact and working.

She then tried to move her right leg, but felt no nothing. The same occurred with her left leg. As she focused, she realized she couldn’t actually _feel_ her legs. Gingerly she opened her eyes to take in the possible damage done to her body. The bright sunlight blurred her vision for a few moments; she blinked a few times before the blue sky came into clear view.

Slowly, she looked down and noticed the lack of a lower body. Despite being very aware of the possibility, seeing caused her to sharply inhale. It proved to be a mistake as a burning pain shot up her side. Glancing around, she realized that she’d been thrown quite a distance. In the distance, she heard the sound of fighting.

She wondered if the others were looking for her. Perhaps they assumed she was already dead. It would be easier that way she supposed. She was a realist and she knew that even if both Yuma and Cynthia were here, her injuries were too severe to heal.

She was going to die.

Her head turned back up as she stared at the blue sky and watched the clouds pass. Her Yoki was immediately reacting to her injuries and was attempting to heal her; as an offensive warrior, she knew there was no hope.

She accepted this fate. It was a risk from the moment she became a warrior, she knew that. Even after the rebellion, she knew that seeking out the remaining Awakened Ones and Yoma was a dangerous pursuit. She knew that dying was more than a possibility.

She was okay with dying.

She thought of Tabitha’s last moments, of how her friend had thanked her for the time they spent together. At the time all she wanted to do was scream, because _how_ \- how could she have been thankful after all she had put Tabitha through. She didn’t deserve her thanks. She didn’t deserve that friendship.

She had thought that she should have been the one to die.

Lying on the ground, she reviewed her life and wondered if she could have done more. _Saved_ more. She thought of how many died during the rebellion and her heart clenched painfully because she was unable to save them all. She remembered going to each body and apologizing after the fight with the revived Number Ones had finished. _I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry you died._

She knew that she deserved to die for all that she could not do, all that she could not save.

Twenty-four. Twenty-four warriors entered Pieta with her as their leader and only seven left. Seven, out of twenty-four. She should have been able to save more. They didn’t deserve to die. She should have been a better leader, found a way to save them even if it meant giving up herself. _Seven. Seven was too far small a number to come out alive from twenty-four young women who had just wanted to live._

She hoped dying might give her some solace after all the death she has seen.

Hilda was in her dreams and in her thoughts all the time. Hilda had been the very reason she started on the path of vengeance. Initially, she had been apprehensive after her transformation, unsure of _what_ she was. After meeting the single digit, she relearned to smile, to laugh, to cry. Hilda reminded her that she was human, that each and every warrior could find companionship, hope, and friendship. Hilda showed her that she could _live_.

She was afraid of facing her ghosts.

Her body froze at the mere though of facing Tabitha once more, of telling her that she failed. Unable to see her mission through to the very end. Her hands clenched at the though of facing all the young warriors, the children, that died following her plan, her rebellion. She could not bare to face the seventeen warriors of the North who she promised to carry on. To say she failed to keep their memory alive. Her heart thundered in her chest at the though of seeing Hilda again after all this time. Her eyes closed so tight that white specks began to flash across the darkness. She didn’t know what she would do when come to face with all the people that have died because of her, that she killed.

A trembling breath passed through her lungs because death was a terrifying prospect. No one was around her and the thought of dying alone settled deep and painfully in the bottom of her stomach. It was then that a voice broke through the air.

“MIRIA!”

Her eyes flew open at that and a shadow moved between the sky and her line of sight. Words flew out of mouths as more figures entered her field of vision. Her attention was not on the words however, as a deep sigh of relief escaped her lungs. Relief for what, she wasn’t sure.

“You’ll be okay, Miria. Just hold on.”

A bitter smile broke out on her face then, following a headshake. She knew she was dying. There was nothing anyone could do to change that.

She opened her mouth to tell her friend that. To tell her that they shouldn’t waste their time. That there is nothing that could be done. That she has accepted her fate, and that she was okay with dying.

The last thing she expected was a small sob to slip past her lips.

“I don’t want to die.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to TwinConstellations and ValensHawke for betaing.

**Author's Note:**

> I really love throwing angst at our fandom :D
> 
> Shoutout to TwinConstellations, ValensHawke and Goatalicious for cussing me out after I sent this to them


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